


I know that you hate this place (Not a trace of me would argue)

by TheSinsOfAnAngel



Series: After The Fact [2]
Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: Arguing, Chess, Chess in Concert (2008), Dialogue Heavy, Kennedy Center Chess (2018), Light Angst, M/M, Miami, Pre-Relationship, They're in a hotel room, assume they share it, back at it again with a dead fandom, bc i hav a lot, hey yall, it's complicated - Freeform, it's resolved though, it's your favourite late night fic poster, no beta we die like men, not mentioned but, read the notes for my thoughts, this is cliche, we hit 1k words be proud of me, yeah assume they share it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 19:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSinsOfAnAngel/pseuds/TheSinsOfAnAngel
Summary: “Oh, fuck you, Anatoly. Tell me, did Svetlana trick you up the altar? Because there’s no way you would willingly stay for longer than a year.”That is so unfair of him.“I would also never follow Svetlana across the country, and sit in a sweltering hotel room, and talk about a game I hate, and entertain the thought of going to Italy for Christs sake.”-----OR: The one where Miami is hot and Freddie wants to take a trip.





	I know that you hate this place (Not a trace of me would argue)

It’s a common misconception that Russia doesn’t have hot summers. This, of course, isn’t true. At least, it isn’t everywhere. Temperatures can go as high as 30 ° C and Anatoly is no stranger to the sweltering heat. 

Miami is a breed of its own, however. 

He can’t remember why he said yes to joining Freddie on this particular trip. He has no stake in the chess world these days. In fact Anatoly is positive that he couldn’t name the last three champions. So why on Earth did he decide to come to the hottest place in America to watch a game he doesn’t care about?  _ (“Something-something-damned smile” is what he tells himself).  _ Whatever the reason, he desperately wished he said no as he peeled his back off of the leather hotel couch for the fourth time since sitting down.

His companion was off watching the third game of the tournament and taking notes. Freddie managed to get himself a job as a low leveled journalist for a more ethical news company ( _ Not that any news company is ethical)  _ and it meant that more often than not that he was off somewhere doing something. ‘Somewhere’ and ‘something’ being used as descriptors because Anatoly could not be assed to actually figure out what the man was doing. 

He definitely did  _ not  _ care about where Freddie was. 

Definitely. 

“Speak of the devil”

“Huh?” Freddie said as he walked through the door and pulled his tie off, sighing obscenely with relief. 

“It’s nothing. Hello.” He unbuttons the first three rows of his shirt, Anatoly does not look at his fingers. 

Freddie “Hm”’s and Anatoly does not look at his collarbone. 

“God, it’s like a sauna in here, Tolya, why don’t you turn up the air conditioner?” 

“That’d be too expensive.”  _ (And then you’d keep your shirt on.) _

Freddie laughed and took a water bottle out of the fridge. “I should have expected you to be money conscious. What, the Communist Lords didn’t let you buy an AC?”

“I’m not going to reward you with an answer to that. Who won?” 

“You don’t care.” He was right, of course, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Not really, no, but I want to know.” A pause, “I want you to tell me about it.”

He takes a sip and eyes the couch, “okay, fine. Make room?”

His thighs burn when they peel off of the leather, but Anatoly makes room anyways. 

“It was this little Ukranian kid. He was wild and unpredictable. You’d absolutely hate him.”

“Why, because he played like you?”

“Well...yeah.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them as both men ruminate on their former matches. The ones that actually counted for something. There’s something very different between playing chess for fun, and playing chess like it’s the last thing that will ever matter. 

“Go turn up the air conditioning, please,” Anatoly conceded that the room was unbearably hot, and if he had to scrape his skin off of the couch one more time he was going to get on a plane and fly back to Moscow. Besides, the conversation was turning personal, and he didn’t feel like sharing feelings just yet. 

Freddie sat back down and stretched his legs over Anatoly’s. “Obviously Miami takes the cake, but I’d love to go back to Italy with you somed ay. On a proper trip too, not for work or anything.” 

The other man hums and glances at his friend, “Oh? I’d have thought Merano fostered bad memories.”  _ (Do we do this? Do we touch so casually?) _

If looks could kill, well, Anatoly would have been dead ages ago so who cares now? 

“I never said Merano, smart ass. We could play the tourist-y type and go to, I dunno, Venice? Ride a ferry, eat some food.”

The thought of being on a ferry, in Italy, with  _ Freddie  _ was making his head spin,  _ (Seriously, do we do this?)  _ and the connotations weren’t lost on him, either. “Oh, well, yes, that could be fun I suppose.”

It’s so  _ hot  _ in the cramped hotel room, regardless of the icy air coming from the AC. Too hot to think of a proper response. Anatoly is sure that his heart is going to jump out of his chest and flop around like a dying fish. Honestly, he feels like doing much the same.  _ (How do you respond to that?)  _

The couch dips when Freddie slides down, feet now hanging off of the arm rest that’s beside Anatoly’s stiff body. His eyes are closed, which is a Godsend because they both need a break from the suffocating conversation. At least they aren’t touching as much as they were. 

“Fun?”

“Yes? Was that-was that not-?”

“You know, sometimes I can’t tell if you’re actually dense, or if you’re only pretending to be.” On closer inspection Freddie's eyes were still closed, but his eyebrows were furrowed and-- _ (Wait, is he pouting?)  _

“Is it not good enough that I’m foreign, and I don't understand the nuances of Western culture yet?” 

“You can say the word ‘nuance’, I think you’re more than capable of understanding a culture you’ve lived in for  _ more than two years.” _

“What do you want me to say?” He’s helpless. Anatoly is so, so,  _ helpless _ when it comes to Freddie. 

“I want you to say something that lets me know you understand what’s going on. You’re cold, but you aren’t frigid. Not with me. So why are you acting like you are?” 

That’s so unfair of him.

“Get off of me.”

“Oh,  _ fuck you,  _ Anatoly. Tell me, did Svetlana trick you up the altar? Because there’s no way you would willingly stay for longer than a year.” 

That is  _ so unfair  _ of him. 

“I would also never follow Svetlana across the country, and sit in a sweltering hotel room, and talk about a game I hate, and entertain the thought of going to  _ Italy for Christs sake.”  _

Freddie looks genuinely stunned, which is a rare occurrence. Perhaps Anatoly would have drank up the sight if he wasn’t very aware of the line he had crossed. He crosses his arms and steps away from the couch. 

“I don’t think that I’m the one that doesn’t understand, Freddie. I didn’t think I needed to spell it out. Since when were we ever good at talking, anyways?” 

Freddie breaks eye contact, and the moment is over. The tension seems to have passed, at least for now, and he laughs dryly. “You’ve got me there.” 

With the AC having done its job, the room has cooled considerably. Crossed-lines forgotten, Anatoly sits back down, though neither of them are as relaxed as before. 

“I meant it about considering Italy.” It’s not an apology but it’s something.  _ (What does he have to apologize for anyways? It’s not his fault Americans don’t do subtlety.) _

His smile shows that he isn’t quite convinced, but Freddie plays along nonetheless. “Oh yeah? Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere colder? I hear Siberia is particularly bitter this time of year.” 

“I’m begging you to shut up.” 

“You’re begging me?” It’s suggestive in a familiar way and Anatoly thanks the Gods that they can go back to normalcy so easily. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you to all of the coldest places in the world, if you’ll go with me.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you” 

That’s as close as they are going to get to a declaration, and for now it’s fine. 

They’re very patient people. 

**Author's Note:**

> right, so, I have some thoughts about this. i'm not terribly pleased with it, but honestly I was tired of it sitting in my drafts so i fixed it up as best i could and shipped it off. it feels really cheesy and cliche, but that may just be my bias talking. anyways, i hope yall enjoy it. :)


End file.
